The Divine Accident of Life
by Arlad
Summary: post 507 AU: The bomb in Bablyon didn't go off and Brian and Justin went their separate ways... can they find their way back to each other?
1. Prologue

**The divine accident of life.**

**Prologue:** **"Whatever else happens, by all means, keep on dancing."**

"I made some decisions…"

"Bout what?"

"My life."

"Ah…"

"What I want."

"I thought you'd already worked that out… you were gonna live off your considerable Hollywood wealth and try your hand at being an artist."

"Why are you making fun of me?"

"I'm not making fun…

You're making me fucking nervous as hell, just tell me what you want… what you've decided, so we can go to bed… fuck…"

"Huh… you already know what I want… I've already told you."

"That's right, you have… A husband. A family. A home. All the things that make life worth living."

"Would you fucking cut it out? Just stop it!... And I know you can't give me those things."

"Not can't. Can't implies that I'm incapable… it's that I won't. "

"I accept that… I suppose it's why I've always loved you."

"Ah… the untamable beast."

"But… to be a couple both people have to want the same things… to move in the same direction. If they can't or… or won't… they really have nowhere to go."

"Probably not."

"Then why are we still doing this, if we both know it's never gonna work?"

"Damned if I know."

**Brian**

And so he left. And I couldn't say I word. I wouldn't. I did what I always do… and then did what I never have. I tried to find an explanation, a vindication, a scape-goat. I ranted, and raved and yelled all my pain… and… I lost them both. My best friend and the man I… the man I…

Justin.

_I felt every ounce of me screaming out,  
But the sound was trapped deep in me._

A little time passed. I went to his show, and he was fucking brilliant. I tried my hand at making things right with Mikey, didn't really work. But I did give him Babylon for their damn benefit. I kept hearing his voice, telling me I had to grow up already, that I was an over-the-hill club boy… and while my face betrayed nothing, a part of me wanted to just tell him 'what the fuck did you expect? You've never let me grow up. You always loved the fact that I was Brian Kinney, for fuck's sake… up until the moment it wasn't convenient for you anymore. So fuck you.'

I felt fucking alone, and I realized my life had really started getting weird when Theodore was my goddamned confidante. But what the hell. I figured some fucking and sucking down under Down Under was the perfect way to treat myself, to remind myself I'd survived cancer… and that I would survive Justin.

And then, well, then came the fucking phone call.

"Brian! Brian, you have to get here now!"

"Calm down, Theodore. I'm on my way to the damn airport, so whatever is wrong, you deal with it."

"No, you have to come, the police are asking for the owner…"

"What?! Theodore, what the fuck did you do? Why are the police looking for me?"

"They… they…"

"Spit it out, Theodore…"

"They found a bomb. In Babylon. It was set to go off during the benefit…"

"I'm on my way."

I could barely speak, so it was a miracle I actually managed to tell the driver we had a slight change of plans. I arrived to Babylon to see a harried-looking Ted dealing with a bunch of people. I stepped in and learned that through sheer luck, one of my bartenders had seen a strange looking device under the bar, and seeing the timepiece was enough to make him call the police. I gave the guy a considerable raise. It was a fucking close call… can you imagine how bad it could have been? A fucking bomb going off in Babylon?

When the questions had been answered and my presence wasn't required anymore, I left things in Theodore's hands and stepped out of the club, quickly lighting a smoke, determined to get to the airport. This was a sure sign I needed to get out of Pittsburgh fast.

And just as I was leaving, he was coming in. He looked… beautiful. I stopped, looked at him for a long while. There was a strange churning in my stomach, just at the possibility that he might have gotten hurt, that the bomb hadn't been found. And like it's always been with us, he felt my presence, found me in the shadows. He paused, and his eyes met mine. It felt like an eternity, though it was probably seconds, and I could feel the words, could feel them in every fucking pore of my body. I took a step towards him. A sharp, loud car horn pulled me out of the moment. My driver was impatiently waiting for me at the curbside, and whatever I was about to do and say was lost, lost in all the bullshit I carry around every fucking second. 'You're Brian Kinney, for fuck's sake.' It never felt more like a curse.

So I got in the car, headed to the airport. And if my hands were shaking and my chest hurt, it was because it was a cold night. That's it. That's what I told myself, and you better fucking believe me. You better, 'cause I can't.

When I came back two weeks later, Justin had left for New York.

TBC

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	2. Chapter 1

**The divine accident of life.**

Chapter 1 - 'Held to the past, too aware of the pending' 

2 years later…

**Justin**

'_When you lose something you can't replace._

_When you love someone, but it goes to waste. Could it be worse?'_

I don't know, but it's just awful. To know, always, that there was so much and now it's gone. To gaze back, eyes blurring, at the memories and the emotions and the effort… and the love. So much love. Gone, lost, missing. But the scar remains, the phantom pain. Like an amputation gone wrong. So wrong, on so many counts. I can still remember the last time I saw him. He was leaving Babylon, and he looked… scared. Shaken up. It was so strange to see him that way, I immediately wanted to go to him, ask him what was wrong… hold him. But the look in his eyes held me back. It was so intense… and there were so many things I could read, just in that look. He took a step forward, and I knew, I just knew something big was going to happen. But then, Emmet said something, and by the time I looked back, he was getting into a car and pulling away.

Whatever could have happened then was lost, and the fact that just this moment, which probably meant nothing, kept me awake for days, was what helped me decide. I couldn't stay in the Pitts. I would never, ever be free from Brian, and from the memories and I couldn't face living with the ghost of us… it was too much.

The review after my show, Lindsay's encouragement… it pointed me to my next step. New York. So I moved, and tried my hand at being an artist. It's actually working… I'm slowly, but surely, getting there. It's everything I dreamed of… but then again, it's not.

'_Memories of a perfect time…' _

It's like a dream. And sometimes it's so absolutely present, I swear I hear his voice. It's almost a strange luxury I allow myself, to remember. Now that the pain and constant sorrow and remembrance don't haunt my every waking breath, I can afford to look back and remember. But if I'm not careful, I get lost in the memories. '_Stuck in reverse.'_

'_We dream of discovering a perfect trail to the answers that will seal our pale faces.'_

But there are none. No answers. Just silence, an impenetrable silence.

And time… time passing, time passing. Seconds, minutes, days, months… they feel like years. They feel like a lifetime. They feel like yesterday.

You know I haven't talked to him since then? I called him, left a message on his machine. He asked me to let him know where I was going, and I did. But he never called back. And there's been nothing, not a call, not an e-mail… Nothing. For a while, it was better that way. And there were so many excuses ready to not go back to Pittsburgh… from money, to shows, to inspiration and the muse striking…

When I called home my mom didn't even mention his name… but as time went by, I just had to know how he was doing. So now, whenever I call mom or Debbie, or even write Michael about Rage or whatever, they let something slip. They know it hurts to ask.

So here I am. Little Sunshine, all grown up. The boy who lived, the little twink that could. I survived the bashing, and loving Brian Kinney, and now I'm making it in the Big Apple. Yeah, I'm just great. Who am I fucking kidding?

And I try to find something in myself, something that's numb and scared… and almost dead. I try to bring it back to life, try to breathe some hope into it. Because I'm desperate to feel again, desperate to love again. It's just… I can't.

I ask and ask and ask… but there are no answers to be had. Simply silence, just quietness. A daunting emptiness.

'_It's flickering out.'_

Why the fuck can't I stop loving him? I was strong enough to leave, to walk away… why am I not strong enough to just stop? Fuck love. Nobody ever tells you it's like this.

This, this. This is flickering out. It was a slow burning candle. A flame. A fire. An inferno. And now, it's flickering out… the warmth it once gave is nothing but a ghost, a ghost that burns and doesn't comfort. A spitting spark that instead of banishing the shadows, brings the darkness into relief. The dark corners. That's how this is… that's how this love ends. Flickering out. It was never supposed to end like this.

'_Will we meet again? I hope somehow, even if we pass you on your way out'._

Maybe. I hope so.

Will we be strangers? Polite and distant, unfeeling and oblivious. Nonchalant. 'You were the fucking love of my life.' Sentences that mean the world thrown out like cheap change. Like meaningless chatter. Like nothing. Losing meaning.

And then again, we might not be. We could be an inevitable reaction, an easy coming together. A familiar rush. A rushing embrace. A sure and heavy reacquaintance. Bittersweet.

"Justin?" A sleep-laden voice interrupts my musings. "Can't sleep again? What's wrong?"

I turn from my place in the window, look towards the man lying in my bed. I try a smile, though I'm sure it's more of a grimace.

"Nothing… pre-show jitters."

Yeah… that, and you're the wrong man, and I can't help but feel that however perfect, I'm living the wrong life.

TBC

Author's note: chapter title is a song by The Shins. Songs quoted are, in order: Fix You by Coldplay, and all the rest is The Atrocity by Biffy Clyro.

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	3. Chapter 2

**The divine accident of life.**

**Chapter 2 ****– 'I don't know on which side his heart falls, but I know where mine is buried'**

Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and all of its characters are property of CowLip, I'm only borrowing them

**Brian**

"Hi, Brian. It's… it's me, Justin. I'm in New York. Staying with a friend of Daphne's… I'm gonna try and do the art thing here, I guess. Um… yeah, so you said to let you know where I went, so I'm letting you know… Take care of yourself. Love you."

And that was fucking it. That was the message waiting for me when I came back from Australia. It's fucking poetic justice if you think about it, because those two weeks Down Under, getting sucked and fucking the hottest gay men on the planet… well, all they made me realize was I had the hottest one. I decided it was about damn time I stopped my reputation from controlling me, because if I was Brian Kinney, when did caring what other people think stop me? Ok… maybe sometimes. Ok, a lot of the times, but shut the fuck up.

So I came back, determined to make some grand gesture… buy a mansion, build a monument in his name… some fucking thing like that. I am an ad-man, after all. Yes, I was perfectly ready to sell my newfound revelation. And the moment I came home, it all crashed around me. 'Cause he was gone. At last gone, at last going after what he should, doing what he should have always done…

So what now… what now. I was stuck. Unable to move on, unable to move back. He came to my mind at the worst, at the best of times. I couldn't let him go, I couldn't call him back. What could I do? He left. He left me.

So I did what was expected of me. Of Brian Kinney, the Stud of Liberty Avenue. Wouldn't want to disappoint. God knows gay PA wouldn't have anything to talk about without me. So I sucked and fucked and drank and drugged… and at some point, after maybe a week of that, I started seeing blond hair instead of brown and pale skin and a smooth body instead of the toned, tanned and ripped body beneath me. And I called out his name. And it hit me, just as the trick was getting dressed and getting the hell out, I would never be free.

'_Settle baby, you are not the sun  
You are not the sun  
You are not the sun'  
_

And the answer wasn't a grand gesture, a mansion and a sentimental declaration. The answer was… growing up. At last, growing up. At last, letting go of Neverland… saying goodbye to Peter Pan.

And even if he was the motivation, and a huge part of my goal… I couldn't do it just for him. I had to do it for me, because fucking hard as it was to face it… I was 33 years old, and it was about damned time. I also knew I couldn't contact Justin. I couldn't talk to him, write to him, see him… nothing. This was something I had to do by myself, and the slightest interaction with him would just send me on a downward spiral.

I'd like to tell you it was as easy as that. That I came to my decision and next day, set my plan into motion and presto! Brian Kinney was finally grown up. I'd like to tell you that, but I'd be lying. How can you let go of what you've been all your life? How do you make yourself understand… more importantly, how do you make others understand, that your reputation, that your name… they stopped being a prize and started being a cage.

I started working on the small things… I went out a little bit less, worked even more. After a few jabs at my age, Emmet and Ted stopped saying anything, 'cause it's not like the years weren't catching up with them either. Less nights out meant less tricks, less booze, less drugs. It wasn't easy, I still panicked and went out on all-night binges of… everything. But it happened less and less as time went by.

Mikey was another problem. After my rejected attempt at an apology, I backed off. And he was so into his new life as a Stepford Fag, I didn't cross paths with him much. Eventually, thanks to Debbie or maybe Zen Ben even, he started showing up, at the dinner, Woody's, making puppy dog eyes… we never talked it out, we never said anything. We just settled into a sort of friendship. I wouldn't say settled back, because something happened one night to make me realize… we could never go back. How do you go back, how do you confront? How do you reach out and try to hold an empty space of air?

You don't. You can't. And… and that knowledge tortures you at times, in the back of your head or brought up to sharp relief when you least expect it. He… he was there for so much of my life. But, he lost track of me. He stopped seeing all of me and settled for seeing what he wanted to see, what was convenient for him.

After all the spiel he fed me, telling me I was an immature club boy and whateverthefuck, after that, he suddenly turned and started scolding me for going out only on the weekends, for actually growing up.

"You haven't been to Babylon for a week, Brian! What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Mikey. I just have a lot of work."

"You're Brian Kinney, for fuck's sake. A little work's never stopped you."

Yeah. It's great to preach, isn't it Mikey? But it's not so much when I actually do what you say, because where would you be without the untamable Brian Kinney? Who could you compare yourself to? Who would make you feel nice and superior, knowing he's such a fucking immature asshole and you're all settled and happy?

So I just… distanced myself. I love Mikey. Always have, and I really always will. You don't go through what I've been through with him and not love, forever. But I just stopped showing him all of me, I let him see what he felt comfortable seeing and let him think what he wanted to.

It was actually Theodore and Emmet who caught on to what I was doing. They didn't come out and say it, but the knowing look in Theodore's eyes whenever he came into the office late and I was still there… the way Emmet sided with me whenever Mikey said anything about my reduced tricking… yeah, they knew. And they didn't say anything, they also knew better, because I would have fucking ripped them a new one.

I also started seeing Gus more. That's one thing the bomb scare reminded me of, that after the cancer I'd promised myself I'd be a better father. Lindsay was thrilled, Melanie less so. But she was busy cooing at J.R. which meant we had less time to snarl at each other… not that we didn't still do it. Baiting Linds' husband has always been a fun past-time, and I wasn't about to quit all my bad habits.

Sometimes, when I just wanted to quit and fuck this goddam growing up shit, I want a fuck, a bump and a Beam… I went to see Gus. And his delighted scream of 'Daddy! Let's play Cowboy Chicken!', his arms around my neck… it reminded me of one of the reasons I was doing this. As for the other… well, I just had to close my eyes. Ah, fuck, I'm becoming a fucking lesbian. Forget I said that.

So it's been two years. Two years of cutting back and growing up. I only go to Babylon twice a month, to Woody's just on the weekends. I see Gus twice a week, I show up for Deb's Sunday dinner. I've made Kinnetic a Fortune 500 company and it's notorious enough that it doesn't matter where it's based, the clients come to me.

It's also been two years of silence. Of no Justin. I know he's doing well… Jennifer stops by, we go to lunch. I know he's got a big show coming up, and there's a faint, unacknowledged idea in the back of my head…

And I'm ok. Really. Maybe not great. But I'm doing fine.

If every once in a while, late at night, I whisper his name, nobody is there to hear it. And if my pillow is a little bit wet in the morning… well, nobody is there to see it.

**Justin**

I feel so lonely. I laugh, I talk, I dance… but I am lonely. This mood that passes through me… this sensation I can't shake.

I'm busy with the upcoming show, planning, little last touches… My agent parading me around, making sure I get all the 'right exposure'. So I say all the right things and smile all the right ways.

I dress the right way and I even have the right man by my side. Charlie… he's charming, sweet, clever… 'perfect'. He's an engineer, we met at some bar… my roommate said I was driving her crazy and I had to get out of the apartment. So we went to some bar in Chelsea, and Charlie cruised me. I was just buzzed enough to feel almost happy, and warm, and friendly… and after he bought me a shot of tequila, I was also horny. So we went back to his place and I sucked him off and I fucked him… and if his jet-black hair looked lighter at times, and his gray eyes looked hazel… it was the alcohol. Nothing more.

I thought it was a one night only thing, but he kept coming back, even when I was bratty and cold. He kept calling, and showing up, until I gave in. We've been together, on and off, for about a year now. He says he loves me, and I always choke back the bitterness I feel when I hear him say it, try hard to forget violin music and breakfast in bed… try to ignore the strange pain I feel in my hands, the pain of rose-thorns scratching my skin. And always, always, when he says it, I see another pair of eyes. I see Brian's intense hazel orbs, looking at me like they did that last night I saw him.

I've never said it back. I say, whatever, 'I know', or 'Me too' or 'You're great'… and it appeases him.

'_I will lie awake  
And lie for fun and fake the way I hold you  
Let you fall for every empty word I say'_

But it scares me. It scares me that I'm this fucking numb, that the most I feel for anybody is slight acceptance. I left him… I left Brian because he couldn't… wouldn't give me what I thought I wanted. But now, I have a break and I have a guy who'd give me all that… and I just don't want it. God, I'm a fucking idiot. I can just hear Brian, saying something about youth and indecision. He'd be right, too.

What I want, what I really want, is some sort of end. An end to this longing that's so much a part of me I've forgotten what it's like to be without it.

And yet it doesn't ever really end. It's a scar. It will always be with me, and he will always be with me. I will always love him, he will always mean this much to me. My beautiful scar. Inescapable… the inescapable us.

'_The day we met up  
It's hard to get up  
And live it down'_

TBC

Author's note: Chapter title from the song Lovers Turn into Monsters by Bright Eyes. Songs quoted, in order, are: Not the Sun by Brand New, Me vs Maradona vs Elvis by Brand New, and The Inescapable Us by Matthew Good Band.


	4. Chapter 3

**The divine accident of life.**

** Chapter 3 – Alea iacta est**

A week later, New York City

**Justin**

"Hi, Brian."

"How are you, Sunshine?"

Those are the first words I cross with Brian Kinney after two fucking years. Greeting each other like polite acquaintances.

Of course, I don't actually know if we look like polite acquaintances, because my heart is racing and my hands are shaking and I'm pretty damn sure I'm a second away from fainting. And I'm sure people are watching, and there's a thought in the back of my head that this won't be too good for my relationship with Charlie… or at least there should be that thought, but my brain isn't working too well. It rarely does when Brian is near. And he is near. There is nothing in the universe except the man in front of me. Brian. Brian is here. Here. In my fucking art show in New York. Standing in front of me.

Holy shit.

'_One night to be confused_

_One night to speed up truth'_

I think Brian notices I have trouble breathing because he moves just a little closer, hazel eyes concerned, warm. He puts his hand on my shoulder. Asks if I'm okay, voice soft. I'm sure he thinks he's helping, but the nearness of him is fucking killing me. His smell… ah, his smell… his favorite cologne, and a little bit of cigarette smoke, and something else, entirely his. Not to mention the fucking electrical sparks that hand is sending down my body.

So much for becoming the independent, hardy artist. A single touch from Brian can still reduce me to an incoherent seventeen-year old.

'_Because you are everywhere I look and in my skin.  
I taste your neck and lips just from breathing in.'_

I should have known. There were clues, little hints. But it was too good to be true, and if I even entertained the notion, and he didn't show up, the disappointment might have been more than I could bear. So I refused to even consider the idea. Even after my mom, Lindsay and Debbie all showed up. And then Emmet and Ted. Even Michael, Ben and Hunter. The whole gang was here… almost. And I didn't ask how they got the money to come, or where they were staying… because I could somehow sense the hand of the master over everything. Only one man could manage to make this happen, bring Pittsburgh to me on the most important night of my life. But I refused to think of him. I… couldn't. Wouldn't allow myself to.

And then, he shows up. Just when I'd let my guard down, the opening was halfway over, things were going smoothly, my work was selling… just then, there's a hush in the crowd. And I feel him, first. So I turn around and see the most fucking beautiful man I've ever seen, or ever will see. Brian Kinney, donned up in Armani, walking towards me.

And I don't know if only seconds go by or it's hours, but I can see so many things just by looking at him… He's… softer, somehow. He's still sleek and gorgeous, he owns the room and he knows it… but there's something more open, now. And when he comes to stand in front of me, and I look up into his hazel eyes… he lets me see him. Really see him. No walls.

It's like looking down into a deep lake… or a stormy ocean… or an endless canyon. Mystery and darkness and wildness… but above all, beauty. A heady experience.

And out of all the things I want to say, fuck you, I love you, fuck me, make love to me, leave, stay… the only thing that comes out is…

"Hi, Brian."

"How are you, Sunshine?"

**Charlie**

The moment I hear Justin's voice, I know it's over. It's the confirmation of an end… an end of something that never really began.

'_And as you breathe the words I better go.  
The sun is up and taking back all the shadows that covered this ground'_

And I tried so hard, so hard, to make something of us. To conquer him, to make him love me. I tried even when I knew it was hopeless, even after he warned me, countless times, that he didn't know if he could love again. But I was insistent, and I kept chasing him, showing up where he was, until he stopped warning me, until he gave in. I thought I'd broken through… but I realize now he'd just gotten tired of constantly chasing me away.

You see… when I first saw him, I thought I was fucking dreaming. I know it sounds impossibly corny, which is why I've never actually said this aloud… but it's true. You see Justin Taylor when he's laughing and try and tell me he doesn't look… well, he just steals your breath. It's his eyes and his hair and his body… but shit, that smile. It was the death of me. And that one smile was enough for me to fall.

And it was just the one smile… I didn't know then what a rare occurrence it was. Because Justin was usually serious, snarking, absorbed or just… absent. I could always tell when he was gone, because his eyes were not looking at me, or at the person in front of us, or at anything in New York City… they were looking at someone who wasn't there, seeing things long gone.

You probably think I'm an idiot for sticking around as long as I did, for being so damn stubborn. And I am an idiot. But… you would be too, for him. For his talent, his intelligence, his wit and beauty… but most of all, for the possibility of making him smile again, like you saw him do that first night. To make him smile for you. So I stayed and waited, even when he wasn't really with me. I waited, hoping the sheer force of time would do what I couldn't, would make him forget whatever it was he saw with those absent blue eyes.

And that's what I was doing that night, walking around on his first solo show. Waiting. He was looking somewhat happier than usual… if not smiling then at least not scowling. I knew it had more to do with all the people that had come from Pittsburgh than the actual success of his show. He introduced me to them, almost as an afterthought, and I was glad when a friend of mine showed up… it was unnerving, being under the examination of the Pitts contingent.

I was actually standing near Justin, with a perfect view of the door, when he came in. A hush fell over the people milling around the gallery, and I could see why. A man had come in, a man who looked like a fucking Greek god. Wearing a beautifully tailored suit, hair styled to perfection… walking like he owned the room. And as if he could sense him, Justin turned around.

'_Some old fires were burning'_

I'd never, ever seen that look on his face before. Certainly never directed at me. I wildly hoped they were casual acquaintances, but the way they were looking at each other… it was like they were devouring each other with their eyes. Justin looked at the man as if he was the answer to all his questions, as if he was… the love of his life. And then I heard him, heard his voice… a simple greeting that sounded like a prayer and a curse and 'I love you' and 'I need you', all wrapped in one… and I knew it was over.

"Hi, Brian."

"How are you, Sunshine?"

**Brian**

We say simple greetings, and I know just by the look on his face and tone of his voice that Justin is still mine. I know coming here tonight was the right thing to do.

He's looking like he can't breath, and I'm a bit worried… can't have the kid fainting in his first big show. So I steady him with my hand, and fuck if that little touch isn't enough for me to feel light-headed. He looks up at me, his eyes asking questions I can't answer, not aloud. So I look back at him, and let him see me. All of me.

He's surprised and intrigued, and I know he can still read me well. But I also know the mere fact that I'm letting him see is making him wonder.

Good. Let him wonder.

'_You couldn't quite discern me.'_

I'm sure the whole Pittsburgh lot are looking at our every move, but only a few, if any, understand why I'm doing this. You should have seen the look on their faces when I told them I'd gotten them all plane tickets and hotel reservations… it was the first time Deb's house was in total silence. And then, utter pandemonium. Honestly, it was like they hadn't ever traveled before. I shut them up by saying that all of them had to be there for Justin's show, because it was fucking important, and that the only thing I did celebrate was achievement. So they better enjoy the trip, 'cause they weren't getting anything for Christmas. Well… Gus will. But nobody else.

Of course, minutes after my announcement, Emmet pranced to the seat next to me and started badgering me about being a closet romantic. And Ted just looked at me… damn those two… I know they were dying to know what I was planning, so they figured they could bug me until I told them. Still, they shut up when I asked them to. Or rather, after I warned them I was going to take their tickets back.

It may seem like flying the whole gang to New York was the extravagant gesture I swore I wouldn't do, but it really wasn't. I wasn't lying when I said this was to celebrate achievement. Because, regardless of what happened or may happen between Justin and I, I will always be proud of him, of every single thing he's accomplished and will accomplish, whether it be walking down a street without freaking out or having a solo art show in New York City. And I knew that he would appreciate his family there, his whole family. The fact that this fitted in just fine with my plan was a bonus.

I wasn't going to sweep him off his feet, to present him with red roses and promises of undying love. I was there to let him see me. And if he actually saw me, if he could discern the changes… then there was a real possibility of something. It was a test. It was casting the dice, putting the ball in his court.

'_Gonna win you over, slow like honey,_

_Heavy with mood.'_

So here I am. Standing in front of Justin Taylor after two years. He's seen me. The rest is up to him. The die is cast.

TBC

Author's note: title is what Julius Caesar said after crossing the Rubicon, 'The die is cast.' Songs quoted are, in order: Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez, December by Lydia, It's in Your Blood by Lydia and Slow Like Honey by Fiona Apple.

Thank you for the feedback… Let me know what you think.


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and all its characters are property of CowLip, I'm only borrowing them.

** The divine accident of life.**

**Chapter 4 – 'The waters of the heart push in their tides'**

**Justin**

"Walk me through the gallery?" Brian asks. And I can't find any words, so I just nod.

I walk by his side, while he moves slowly from painting to painting. I feel like a little kid with a stolen cookie, absolutely blissful and reveling in every bit of the man beside me, but with some faint alarm tainting the moment.

I'm also desperate for him to say something… because even though he was right, even if his approval won't make my work better or make me like it any more or less… his approval has always been the only one that was important. Not my mother's, not Debbie's or Daphne's… not even my dad's, which in some guilty corner of my mind, I still wish I had. Brian's opinion will always be the one. He has been my drive and my motive and my shelter and my inspiration… while also being my greatest stump, my greatest frustration and pain. It's always like that, isn't it? Your greatest strength is simultaneously the source of your greatest weakness.

We come to a stop in front of a huge canvas. It's an abstract, a myriad of color… gold, green, brown, hazel… a touch of deep, dark blue, the color of despair. It's him. His eyes, that last night. One look at his face tells me he knows exactly what he's seeing. And he looks… pained. Vulnerable. Regretful, even. Though Brian Kinney doesn't do regrets. That he ever admits, that is.

"It's… magnificent." he whispers, at last.

I release the breath I didn't know I was holding.

"This is why I don't like words. All of them…" he gestures to all the paintings, "they're more than words can say."

And he looks at me then, a soft smile on his face. A smile that's mine only, that Brian has only ever given me. People always tell me my smile is beautiful, they call me 'Sunshine'… they've never seen this. It's the most beautiful thing in the world, his smile. And his eyes are so proud, so… happy. Because of me. For me.

And in that moment, in that simple moment… the last two years are gone. Purged like some disease. It feels like standing in the warm sun, after a long time in the darkness… a darkness fabricated with half-baked dreams and shattered hopes badly taped back into some semblance of shape, a strange darkness constructed of selective memory and numbness.

The rational part of my brain knows there's so much to think through and decide and talk… but I don't listen to it, because for the first time in two years, in twenty-four months, in seven hundred and thirty days… I can breath. I can feel. I can smile. So I do.

'_As the scene re-grows, I see in different lights_

_The shades and shadows undulate in my perception._

_My feelings swell and stretch, I see from greater heights.'_

My manager comes to get me, and I feel incredibly pissed off at him for daring to interrupt this. Brian shrugs, smirks. God, I missed that smirk.

"Go show off, Sunshine. I have some business to take care of, anyway."

After talking to some guy from the Times and enduring another bone-crushing hug by Debbie, I turn to where I saw Brian last, but I can't find him. There's a red tag next to the painting we were seeing, though, and I just know what business it was he had to take care of.

A hand on my shoulder startles me, and I turn to look at Brian, tongue-in-cheek and eyes amused at my jumpiness. I try to glare at him. Doesn't seem to work.

"I have to go now. Walk me to the door?"

We walk out together, and I know I'm etching every single second of this into my brain, from the way he looks and smells, to his warmth and his smile. The way we even look right walking together.

Shit, two years without seeing him and I've regressed to being a goddam teenager with a crush.

We stand outside, and he's facing me. I'm looking up into his eyes, and I'm struck yet again at the openness. The walls aren't back up.

He moves a bit closer, and my breath speeds up.

His hand comes up to my cheek, and it's soft, warm and dry… and then, like it always is, his head comes down and mine goes up and we're kissing. Kissing, and saying everything there is to say in that kiss. He tastes like I remembered, better. He tastes like he's mine. I feel free. I feel like everything that was wrong is right.

'_Th__e mindless euthanasia of a kiss'_

Then he's holding me, and I'm holding on to him, hard as I can.

"Justin…" he whispers. And that, just my name… it's enough to make me shiver.

He lets go of me. Turns to leave. And suddenly, I just understand. I understand what this was, what this means. I have to think some things through, while not under the influence of him… Brian Kinney is a hell of a lot more powerful than any drug, trust me. We still need to talk. But for now, I only need to say one thing.

"Later, Brian."

He stops for a second, and I see the brief flash of happiness and hope in his eyes and in his face.

"Later."

He's walking down the street, and as I see his long figure retreat, I think 'later' has never sounded more like a promise.

I'm still fucking floating when I turn to go back inside, but someone is blocking my way.

Charlie.

Oh, fuck.

I cringe internally, preparing myself for tantrums and screams. A long ago fight echoes through my brain… 'You always forgave Brian!'... but this time, I'm not exactly the injured party.

In fact, I'm the fucking selfish asshole party. I lied to myself, badly. And I hurt someone in the process. So I wait for the ranting… but it never comes.

Charlie just looks at me, sad and knowing at the same time. He looks so fucking sad… no, not sad. Not exactly. He looks resigned. Like the other shoe has finally dropped.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Charlie." I say softly. I know, I know… sorry's bullshit, but I really am sorry.

"Me, too." he finally says. "It was bound to happen, Justin. You were never really here, never really with me…"

The quiet statement, perfectly truthful, makes me hurt, for him.

'_Cause I built you a home in my heart_

_From rotten wood and it decayed from the start._

_You can't find nothing at all if there was nothing there all along…'_

"I… I really, really _am_ sorry I hurt you, Charlie. You're a great guy… but I'm…"

"In love with someone else."

"Well… yes. I've always been."

He tries to smile… but his eyes are still sad, and it looks more like a grimace of pain.

"I know… tonight is the first time I've seen you smile in over a year. I remember when I first met you… I wished I was the one to make you smile like that. But… I guess it can only ever be him."

He nods, as if confirming this to himself, hugs me quickly, and after a whispered 'take care', he's gone. As if he'd never been.

His words reverberate long after, however. Because he's right. All too right. It has always been Brian… and it can only ever be Brian.

Finally walking into the gallery, I feel a new sense of… hope.

TBC

Author's note: chapter title taken from a poem by Dylan Thomas (fave poet ever… god, I love him). Songs quoted are: Never is a Promise by Fiona Apple, an extract from a poem by Walter de la Mare and Crooked Teeth by Death Cab for Cutie.

Let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and all of its characters are property of CowLip, I'm only borrowing them

**The Divine Accident of Life**

**Chapter 5 – 'A process in the weather of the heart'**

**Michael**

The one thing you have to understand is I never could understand Brian Kinney. Not all of him, anyway. But… I got pretty damn close. That is, before the Boy Wonder showed up.

Things were simpler, before Justin. Brian was simpler. And Brian was my best friend, since I was fourteen years old. I'm sure you've heard me say this before and you're thinking 'please, shut up with that already', but if you've met Brian Kinney, you might understand why staying his friend for so many years is something to point out. Shit, just being his friend is something to point out.

I was there for so much of it… I was there when Bran was still gangly and a bit awkward, but dark and mysterious: my hero… I always talk about that, when Brian saved me from the bullies and we smoked pot and jerked off thinking of Patrick Swayze, though I keep the awkward part to myself, obviously. I was there when he wasn't heroic at all, but rather bruised and bloodied and barely holding back tears… and I never talk about that, because it scares me, even now, to remember him so hurt and vulnerable. And when we were older, every time he came to me, drunk and barely keeping it together after seeing his dad… it was just as scary.

I was there, very pissed off, when he went through that pseudo-girlfriend phase with Lindsay when he left for college. I was there when he came back, sleek, beautiful and absolutely sex-driven. I saw him become the legend. I was next to him when he became Brian Kinney, for fuck's sake.

And through all that, through all those years, I was in love with him. Why did I put up with the tricks, and the drunkenness, and driving him home a second away from unconsciousness? Well, because I always thought he'd love me back, in the way I did. Because as far as I knew, I was the only guy Brian had ever let in. So I hung on, and stayed in the side-lines, and waited.

'_Don't bother saying you're sorry, why don't you come in?_

_Smoke all my cigarettes again._

_Every time I get no further, how long has it been?_

_Come on in now, wipe your feet on my dreams.'_

And then _he_ showed up. I'm sure you've heard me go on about this, about the twink that wore out his welcome, the trick that never left, the little blond Boy Wonder… so pretty and so fucking stupid, because he fell in love with Brian Kinney and thought Brian Kinney would love him back. But the thing is… he did.

And I couldn't believe it. Because if he was gonna love someone, it should have been me. But it wasn't. So I was doomed, again, to stay in the sidelines, and watch Brian falling deeper in love with some kid. Without even realizing it, of course.

'_Come on and kill me baby, while you smile like a friend._

_Oh, and I'll come running just to do it again.'_

And in typical twink fashion, Justin left him. And I got a punch in the face for it. You probably think I was a total asshole, saying what I did… but you didn't see Brian, that night Justin got bashed. You didn't sit next to him, while he didn't move for three days, tears streaming down his face and blood on his hands, his clothes. I never knew Brian could feel that much for someone else.

And then the stupid kid leaves him, for a greasy looking fiddler!

They got back together, and by then I couldn't care less. I mean, I was with Ben. So don't you dare say I looked jealous or angry, that night in Babylon. If I was angry it was because Brian was taking the idiot back, after everything he did to him! That's it.

My life started getting busy then, busy and happy enough that I could slowly let go of my dream of Brian. There was Ben, then the 'steroid incident', then Hunter… and all that Hunter meant. Things were going well, and then Vic died. And Brian got cancer.

I was scared, then. Because Vic made me fear for Ben, and Brian for myself. Brian Kinney was indestructible, fucking immortal. And yet, he'd gotten cancer.

It brought me closer to Justin, and further apart at the same time. Still, I kinda stopped thinking about him like a stupid kid. Kinda.

Then he left for L.A.

I know Brian thought he'd never come back. And… I don't know, maybe he wouldn't have, if Rage hadn't gotten cancelled.

I guess it was around that time when Brian and I drifted apart…

He'd say it was when I became a 'Stepford fag'. I say it's when I grew up. We were still friends… but that changed one night. When Justin left Brian. When Brian came and screamed his head off, when he insulted me… and the life I'd learned to live without him. That's when everything came crashing down.

The end of the Brian and Mikey show.

I was done. Done with taking his bullshit and always forgiving him when he was an asshole. I didn't need him anymore.

'_You are the last drink I never should have drunk,_

_You are the body hidden in the trunk,_

_You are the habit I can't seem to kick…'_

My mom kept looking at me like I'd kicked her puppy, and I knew Ben was thinking the same thing… so after Justin left for New York, I forgave Brian. We didn't actually talk about it, but I figured it was settled.

Brian and I had drifted apart, but it was right then when he became just… impossible for me to figure out. I kept saying things, to remind him of the old days, but he wouldn't answer like he always did. He smiled this odd smile… a sad smile, I guess, and shut me up. Or just stay quiet. I didn't get it. Ted and Emmet seemed to understand, which was weird. And Ben would just give me this look… which stopped me from saying anything else. It was a strange time, when everyone else seemed to understand Brian better than me.

Two years went by. And then, in the middle of dinner at my mom's, Brian came out with the whole New York trip thing, for Justin's show. I was totally confused. I mean, _I'd_ talked more with the Boy Wonder than Brian… in fact, far as I knew, Brian hadn't talked to him at all. Still, we all went to the show. And we were there to see Brian's grand entrance (the man always has to make an entrance). We saw Justin's shock and Brian's… happiness. We saw it, but we didn't understand any of it. At least I didn't.

That night, I had a long conversation with Ben. About Brian.

"I just don't get it, Ben. He hasn't seen him, even talked to him, in two years! What's this all about?"

Ben just looked at me for a while, eyes thoughtful.

"Well, Michael… I think it's about Brian showing Justin he's changed."

"Changed? Brian Kinney doesn't change!" I mean, that was the whole problem. That's why Justin left in the first place.

"I think he does. I think he has. Think about it Michael… how often do you hear Brian's been to Babylon? Or hear him brag about endless tricks?"

"He still tricks!"

"Well, yes. But not like he used to, right?"

I nodded, wondering what Ben was getting at.

"Think how Brian's late nights are at work now, though. How often he sees Gus, how he hasn't missed Sunday dinner in a long time." Ben paused, letting me take in his words. "Brian_ is_ growing up. He's… he's becoming the man he always was, underneath everything else. And tonight... I guess tonight it was time to show Justin."

"But… how come he didn't talk to me about it?" my voice sounded a bit childish, but I couldn't help it. Ben looked at me kindly.

"Michael… would you have let him?" I was confused. "Think about it. Instead of encouraging him, you kept berating him for going clubbing less… you kept teasing him, even scolding him. You didn't want him to grow up."

And it struck me then, Ben was right. I'd been a total asshole. I'd yelled at Brian when he wouldn't grow up, and then when he had. I felt so bad…

Ben took my hand then, comforting me.

"It's ok. It was hard, letting go of your youth. And Brian symbolized that. You didn't want everything to be gone."

"But… I feel so bad. What can I do?"

"Talk to him. You guys have never actually talked about what happened two years ago… and what's happened during these two years."

I decided I would, once we were back in Pittsburgh. So here I am. Walking to Brian's loft, pizza and beer in hand, hoping he hasn't gone out. Trying to think of what to say. Dying to tell him I'm sorry. Desperate to get my best friend back.

Wish me luck.

**Brian**

It's Friday night. And I'm standing in front of the window, smoking. There's a half full glass of Beam somewhere. I'm looking out into the darkened street, thinking it might have some answers. Or maybe I just can't find anything else to do with myself.

It's been a week since I saw Justin. I've kept busy, but seeing him… kissing him… it affected me more than I'd like to admit.

'_I've got your kiss  
Still burning on my lips'_

Fuck. Everything feels so… empty. So devoid of reality. I feel like I'm living some crazy half-life, as if everything around me is part of a dream, colorless and lacking substance. It was seeing him. Touching him. It reminded me of what my life was like, once, before this emptiness. Before the numbness and the absence. Before he left.

And no ad-campaign, no pitch, no trick, no drink and no drug can make me forget what I felt in that one moment. I'm the master of avoidance, the king of denial and yet I can't escape this. I can't escape that moment, that kiss and the fact that the waiting is killing me. It's killing me.

_  
__'I'm ever swiftly moving  
trying to escape this desire,  
the yearning to be near you'_

I'm so absorbed in my thoughts, it takes me a moment to realize someone's outside, knocking. Or actually, pounding. Shit, I really don't want to see anyone right now… but whoever it is, they don't seem to be leaving soon, so I better open up.

I slide the door open and who should be there but Mikey. Pizza and beer in his hands, looking at me with_ that_ look in his eyes. I'm momentarily thrown back some seven years, and I shake my head to clear it of the memories. I don't say anything, just wave him inside. I wonder what the hell brought him here.

**Michael**

Brian finally opens the door. Thank god, my hand was starting to hurt. He's wearing a black wifebeater and jeans with the top button undone. I'm strangely glad at least some things really don't change.

He hasn't said anything yet, so I take a moment to look at him properly while I'm putting the box and the sixpack on top of the counter. He looks a bit disoriented, lost in his own thoughts. I'm not usually too observant, or penetrating (and don't say 'duh' because sometimes I am. Really. Oh, shut up)

But this time… well, this time I can see something is really wrong with Brian. He looks so fucking… sad.

It throws me. It's this, more than anything, that convinces me Brian has really changed. He would have never let me see him like this before, hell, he wouldn't have let himself feel like this.

"Brian… are you… how are you?" I ask quietly.

He shoots me this penetrating gaze and it's all I can do to not look away.

Finally, he clears his throat.

"Not too good, Mikey. I'm afraid I won't be much company tonight. Go home." he takes a long drag from his cigarette, and turns to stare out the window. Every move he makes is weighed down… it hurts me to see him like this.

"I… uh, I came to talk. To… to say I'm sorry."

He turns back to look at me, eyebrow raised quizzically. "Sorry? For what?"

I know it's time for my big speech, so I take a deep breath. I walk a bit closer to him, until I'm standing right in front of him.

"I'm sorry I've been such an asshole, Brian." he looks like he's about to interrupt me, so I motion for him to stay quiet for a moment. "We haven't really talked about what happened the night Justin left, and about what happened afterwards. I said some bad things, Brian, and you did too. I know you were hurting… but you hurt me." He looks regretful. Hmm… it seems Brian Kinney does do regrets, after all. "Still, it doesn't really justify how I acted after. Because, you are my best friend Brian. I just… stopped seeing you, the real you. And I realize now that you've been changing and growing up, and after all the things I told you, I kept coming down on you for doing what I said you should do all along. So, even though I know you say sorry's bullshit, I am sorry."

Whew. That was intense. Brian was quietly looking at me, his head a bit tilted.

"Been talking with the Professor, Mikey?" he said at last, smirking. "You know the Zen in Ben will rub off."

I chuffed out a laugh. Asshole! But I saw the forgiveness and apology in his eyes, the understanding. I saw him again. Really saw him. I had my best friend back.

**Brian**

Whatever I expected when I saw Mikey outside my door, this wasn't it. But I'm glad this is what I got, because… shit, I'd missed him.

So we ate pizza, even if it was after seven, and drank beer and got high. We talked about kids we knew in high school (turns out Mikey had seen this totally in the closet jock who'd sucked me off some time going into Meat Hook… that had me laughing for a while). We speculated on whether Drew Boyd would come back to Emmet, tried not to speculate on how Blake and Ted were doing (because no matter how high, Theodore's sex life is still not a topic I'd like to spend any time on)… and at some point, I told him about Justin. About how much I missed him. And what I'd realized. And how I hoped he'd come back.

And Mikey just listened. He didn't say Justin was a stupid twink or that I sounded like a lesbian. He didn't remind me Brian Kinney didn't do love, or missing, or hoping. He just listened, and gave me another beer and another slice of pizza.

Right before he left, he hugged me, gave me a kiss.

"He'll come back, Brian." he whispered. And then he went home to the Professor. As he always should.

Yeah, I'd missed him.

I was sitting on the couch, staring at nothing, still unable to forget and sleep. I felt lighter than I had in a while, because things were good with Mikey… but all the pizza and beer and joints in the world couldn't quite make me forget, or Justin appear.

And then, he did. Justin appeared. I blinked, wondering how strong that last joint had been.

I hadn't heard the door slide open, hadn't heard the footsteps. But here was Justin, looking a bit tired but smiling, smiling at me.

He'd never given me back his key.

"Justin?" I whisper.

"Brian…" and it's the sound of his voice that convinces me this isn't a hallucination from some fucked up weed, but he's real and he's in front of me. I stand up, and close the space between us. I pull him to me by the shoulders, breathe him in. Justin…

'_Catch the sun before it's gone._'

I kiss him, and the taste of him is enough to bring color back into my world, I kiss him and I feel I've never kissed anyone before this.

We should talk, and I know you think I've really lost it because I'm actually thinking this, but it's the truth. I also know that before any words can be spoken and understood, I have a lot to say, the way I've always said things to him.

So I don't stop kissing him. I move my hand between us, slowly lifting his t-shirt, feeling the smooth skin underneath. He moans, and in that moment I take his shirt off, immediately going after the button in his jeans. They fall to the floor and I notice with a grin he isn't wearing any underwear.

"Why, Sunshine's going commando…"

"I'm impatient." he grunts out, while licking my neck.

One of his hands is rubbing my nipples, the other is doing something wicked to my denim covered crotch. I'm completely lost in sensation, so it takes me a moment to take control back.

I grab Justin by the wrists, step slightly away from his writhing body. It's one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, because more than anything I want to feel his body on mine, his skin rubbing against my skin, I'm dying to let him lick away the years and the pain and the doubt. But before I can let him do that, I have to tell him something. My way.

So I lead him up the three steps to the bedroom, lie him atop the bed, and I'm reminded of how fucking perfect he looks against blue sheets. He's not saying anything, letting me do this, but he's desperate for me to fuck him.

I go retrieve something from the closet, and come back. I straddle him, kiss him hard. He moves against me, and I grow impossibly harder.

"Easy there, Sunshine."

"Brian…" he moans.

I distract him with another kiss, and before he can put up a fight, I tie one and then another wrist to the discreet rings on the wall. He finally notices the silk ties restraining him, but says nothing. Just looks at me. Fuck, those eyes… lust filled, a deep, dangerous blue.

I step back from the bed, and he whimpers at the loss of contact. Without breaking eye contact, I slowly take off my wifebeater and throw it to the floor. Then, even slower, I lower my jeans and step out of them. I can hear Justin's breathing speed up, can see how he tugs at the silk ties. I climb on top of the bed again, and straddle him. I bite back a moan at the delicious contact of his cock against mine. I want to do so much… I want to lick every bit of his body, I want to suck his cock and then rim him until he's begging. But looking into his eyes, I know I have to fuck him now. And something eases in my chest when I think that after I fuck him, I can do everything else.

So I grab the lube and a condom from the bedside table, toss the condom next to me and open the bottle, coat my fingers liberally. I lift his legs up and I push one finger inside, then two… He's fucking desperate, fucking himself on my fingers, tight and warm, but so ready.

"Brian… fuck me…" he begs.

So I do. I tear the condom open with my mouth, roll it on my dick. My hands are shaky, and I feel… so much.

Then at last, at last, I'm inside him.

Fuck… I can barely think… he starts pushing back, and we move in perfect rhythm, and I remember what fucking Justin feels like, how nothing else, no other trick, can ever come close.

He's moaning, more more more, faster faster faster, and I slam into him, claiming him, branding him, reminding him he's mine. Telling him everything.

I missed you, I love you, stay with me, stay with me, stay… stay… stay…

I switch the angle of my hips lightly, and when I hit his prostate his eyes roll back, he screams out. I can feel I'm not gonna last much longer, so I start jerking him off and all too soon he's cumming and I'm cumming and my eyes close at the intensity, every cell in my body humming with pleasure. I collapse on top of him, unable to move.

"Brian…" he whispers.

Eventually, I slide out and toss the condom in the trash, untie him, kiss his slightly red wrists. I pull him to me, and we collapse, spent.

I'm on my back, and his head is resting on my chest. There are things to say, things to settle.

But right now, all that matters is he's lying next to me. He's lying next to me… and the emptiness is gone.

TBC

Author's note: title taken from a poem by Dylan Thomas. Songs quoted are, in order: Like a Friend by Pulp, Painted on my Heart by The Cult, Do What You Have To by Sarah McLachlan, and Catch the Sun by The Doves.

Whew… this was a bit of an exhausting chapter. I was slightly scared of doing Michael POV… hope it went right… and I really hope the final scene worked. Let me know!


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and all of its characters are property of CowLip, I'm only borrowing them

** The Divine Accident of Life**

**Chapter 6 ****– Light breaks on secret lots**

**Justin**

I wake up because I'm too comfortable. I'm reluctant to open my eyes, though, and sacrifice this perfect mixture of imagination, nostalgia and longing. I don't want to open my eyes and see the clutter of my apartment, the promise of the New York skyline through the window… a promise that started being something of a curse a while ago. I don't want to see white covers instead of blue, don't want to give up this painful pleasure.

But then I breathe deep, and I smell him. All around me, on me.

I risk a peek. And realize I'm in the loft. I'm in his bed… in our bed. And last night comes back to me, this time not as some hopeful and all too real dream, but as a memory. As truth. As a release…

It's his absence that makes me wake up completely, sit up and try to get my bearings. Before any rational thought can make its way into my conscience, I'm panicking. He's not here, he's not lying next to me. Maybe he regrets this already. Maybe I got it wrong, and he doesn't want to try again. Fuck… what if… what if he thinks last night was a mistake?

'_Come down to my level and share this cold with me,_

_The space once filled heavy with loss now lies empty'_

"Gonna get your ass out of bed anytime soon?"

I feel a relief so strong I could pass out. He's in the kitchen. Shit, Taylor, get a fucking grip… I'm such a goddam drama queen (Brian would be all too glad to tell you that, but he's probably worse, so he can shut up). I grab my jeans and put them on, steal one of Brian's white t-shirts and go claim my cup of coffee.

Brian has his back to me, staring out the window. He's got nothing but jeans on, and I feel a sudden urge to sketch him like that, an ungodly beautiful image of contained feeling and gathering strength… With his back to me, probably inscrutable to anyone but me… I can read every plane of his body… I can see the tension, the way he's steeling himself.

I take a sip, and sigh… it's the best cup of coffee I've had in two years. It's just how I like it. I walk towards Brian until I'm standing behind him, caress his back briefly.

"How did you sleep?"

"Good. Best sleep in… in two years, actually." I confess.

He finally turns around, smiles a little. He kisses the top of my head, and breathes out, "Me, too."

He leans back, looks at me carefully. There's a strange silence, like the calm before the storm. I see resolve in his eyes… and I know what's coming.

"So… we need to talk."

He nods, and looks down.

"Never thought I'd say the words, but yes… we need to talk." he looks up, meets my eyes. "About the past, about what we want… about the future."

I take a deep drink from my coffee, to hide my childish glee at the fact he said future, and to hide my fear that this future isn't together.

"You know I'm not too good at his 'talking' thing." his hesitance is clear, yet he goes on. "But… I have been doing a lot of thinking, these two years. And, I've made some decisions about what I want." he stops for a second, just looking at me, and it comes to me. That's what I said before I left him. Before I left him for what I thought I wanted… shit. I hope he doesn't… I hope this doesn't mean the same. His eyes are intense, they bore into me… I want to look into them forever, and at the same time, I want to look away because whatever he's going to say is going to be more than I can take.

'_My hero bares his nerves'_

"I want you. I do. More than anything. I want… I want to sleep next to you and wake up beside you… and fuck you in between, before and after that. I want to tell you about whatever ad-campaign is torturing me, so you can fuck the stress out of me and then help me with it. I want to kick your ass at pool in Woody's and have you give me a victory blow job. I want to see your face after you have a great day in the studio, and I want to fuck you while you still smell of turpentine and your hands and hair leave paint on my clothes… I want to bitch about the dry-cleaning bill later. I want to see you play with Gus, see how the years and the pain leave you and I can see the seven year old you were. I want to go to Sunday dinner at Deb's with you, so she can mother and overwhelm you instead of me, for a change…" he pauses, just looking at me. "I want you." He ends in a whisper, and turns to look out the window again.

I can't breathe, and I can't speak and I… fuck. Fuck… he said it. In his own way, in the way that matters… he said it. And I suddenly understand, after all these years. Love can't be explained or said by mere words… it is much greater than them.

Before I can say anything, however, he starts speaking again. And this time, it's with a certain reluctance, a reluctance with an edge.

"I want all of that, Justin. But… but I can't become a Stepford Fag. If what you want is still a house in the suburbs, and a husband and babies…" he takes a deep breath, and I can see this hurts to say. "I'd do it. For you… I would. I'd say the vows in the matching suits, and buy you a mansion in the country and take up… gardening, or whatever the fuck the fashionable husbands to these days. I would."

…

…

"But it would… it would make me something I'm not. And you'd end up married to something that used to be me, but is a resentful shade now. And I'd do something stupid out of spite, something neither you nor I could forgive… and we'd end up hating each other." he looks away for a moment. "I think I'd prefer not ever seeing you again, rather than having you hate me. So if that's what you want… I won't give it to you."

And I'm a second away from totally losing it, crying like an idiot. Because I understand what he's saying, and I agree… I had time to think, and it came to me that I'm not Mikey. Brian's not Ben. And as much as their life seems comfortable and happy, and even though I know they're in love… they're not us, and they're not in the same kind of love Brian and I are.

They don't know what it's like, when your salvation and your damnation depend on this one person, when every fucking thing that you like about yourself is their making, when breathing is easier if they're by your side, how the world lacks color if they're not there. It's beyond clichés and beyond explanations. It's something that changes you irrevocably. It's what made you, makes you, what keeps you going and the only thing that could make you stop. It's dependant, and probably a bit unhealthy… It's insane, it's inescapable… it's us.

And I finally understood, through pain and missing and distance… no vows and no ceremony could ever bind and define us. Because we're bound in a way that's almost painful, and because we're beyond a definition.

I want to say all this, I want to reassure him, but I sense he's not done. And it's so rare, when Brian lays himself open like this…

"I don't know what to hold you with, Justin. But I offer you whatever I have. Whatever I am. I offer you my stubbornness and my silence, I offer you my bitterness and my old pain, I offer you whatever value I have, whatever humor and happiness my life. I offer you a battle, a battle with me, every single day, for something most people have no trouble expressing. I offer you the best sex you'll ever have… And I offer you my love."

…

…

"But if you take it, take it. All of it. All of me. Not what you think I am, but what I actually am. I've been doing some growing up, but I have some way to go. And if you're going to be with me… _  
_You can't keep cutting me open and leaving me. I'm not… I'm not like other people, Justin, I need time to adjust. And it fucking sucks that I do, and I hate it, but it's true… I don't know how to do this. It comes natural to you, but… I had it beaten out of me before you were even born." he pauses, takes a jagged breath, and there's so much fucking pain in his eyes, such vulnerability… I want to hold him, to take it away.

'_All I've ever learnt from love was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you'_

And it hits me, more than it ever has… we're all responsible. Not just Jack and Joan… but all of us. Why do we expect him to know how to do this? And to think he's worthy of love? He's never known unconditional love. Debbie pushes and pulls. Mikey always looks at him with a shadow of pain… of accusation. Lindsay does too… and her and Mel use Gus, the one person who loves Brian without wanting something from him other than love, than a hug… they ask for his money and demand he be a better father… then don't believe him when he is. Emmet and Ted keep their distance… even though Ted has been a good friend lately.

And me… first I loved the idea of him, then him… then I made him break all his rules and bare himself open, and I forgot it. Not intentionally, but… I still forgot. And then I left him. I came back, and for some time it was close to perfect. But anger and cancer and Rage got in the way. And I came home and let others dictate what I should want, again. I let them convince me we were other people. I left him.

So no wonder. No wonder he has these walls and this pain. Has anybody not hurt him? Those of us that profess to love him, to be his friends… have we not thrown his quiet, absolute love in his face?

'_Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.'_

I'm filled with a regret so deep I could drown. And I want to show him that I do love him, more than myself… more than any romantic ideal. Him. All of him. I want to spend my life making sure he knows it.

He's regained control of himself. And when he speaks again, he's quiet and controlled… anyone else would think he doesn't care about what's happening and what he's saying and what my answer is. But they don't see the shadow of overwhelming hope and fear, deep in his eyes, or the nervous movement of his hands.

"I don't want you to answer right away. I want you to go somewhere, and think it through. Because… I want you to be absolutely sure."

We're quiet again. The silence has a heavy, charged quality… I feel the air ripple with the words that have been said, with the expectation and the tension. He sits down on the couch, exhausted with feeling. I wait a moment before leaving, I need to gather myself. I go to stand in front of him, kiss him on the cheek.

"I'm gonna go have lunch with Daphne… and I'll be back later, ok?"

He nods. I fight against the urge to kiss his doubt away. He needs a real answer, and he deserves one.

"Later." I whisper, and leave.

**Brian**

'_Tied to the testing of wills, and my heart breaks and spills'_

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I can't believe I said that. I can't believe the words actually made it past my throat, for a change. It's the fucking hardest thing I've ever had to do. Ever.

To tell him how I feel, what I want… and then to let him go, to let him leave this loft… knowing that when he comes back, it may be to leave forever.

I don't want to think about what would happen if he did leave. The mere idea of it, the possibility… it crushes me. I'd end up the fucking sad cliché I tried hard to avoid… the love sick fool, forever hurting. Because what I didn't even dare voice and what I barely dare to feel is… it's Justin, or nobody. I don't think anyone could ever get under my walls the way he did, sneak his way into my heart. But more than that… I wouldn't want anybody else.

Ain't that a kick in the head… Brian 'no love, just fucking' Kinney. In love. Forever.

Goddamn it.

I stand up and go to the bar, and before I can even think, I kick back a tumbler of Beam. I'm refilling it, when I pause. I don't want to be drunk to hear whatever Justin has to say. Of course… it would be a hell of a lot easier… but whatever the answer is, I want to be fully sober. Resolved, I set the bottle and glass down.

Fantastic job, Kinney. Now what the fuck are you going to do until Justin comes back?

'_All this fear falls away to leave me naked'_

I stare around the loft, waiting for inspiration to strike. It doesn't, but I do get an idea. I put on a t-shirt, grab my jacket and keys, and as I'm heading out the door I call Lindz. Time to see my son.

Thankfully, Mel is out with J.R. doing whatever lezzies do with their kids, and I'm not sure what Lindsay can read in my eyes, but she doesn't ask any awkward questions. We take Gus to the park, and I kick a soccer ball around with him. He's getting good… and I'm filled with happiness and sadness at the same time. So much happiness because he's my kid, and I love him, and he's growing up fucking fantastic. And a vestige of deep sadness… for the boy I was, who never did have someone to cheer him on, to kick the ball around with. Shit, I knew this 'opening up' crap was a can of worms…

"Goal!!! I beat you, daddy!"

The gleeful yell jolts me out of the memories, and I'm gladly brought back to the now, to my son.

"Good one, Sonny boy!"

o

I plop down on my couch, blessedly tired and somewhat content. I always feel like this after spending time with Gus. But after a moment, the silence of the loft brings back all my doubts and fears with a vengeance. I need to keep moving, need the small actions so I don't lose it. I take off my shirt, take off my shoes…

I'm a bit sweaty after all that playing with Gus, but I don't want to take a shower. I haven't all day actually. It's irrefutable proof I've become a lesbian: I don't want to take a shower, 'cause I don't want to wash him away.

The moment I admit this to myself, I'm actually standing up to run into the hot shower, fuck it all, I have some dignity left, but the door slides open and I freeze.

Time for the final showdown.

'_As the sun sets on battlefields,_

_I hope you can save me_

_I hope you can save our wounded hearts.' _

Justin comes in, takes off his jacket… slowly, methodically. I'm this close to yelling at him to fucking get it over and done with, the jacket won't die if it doesn't hang perfectly straight, thank you very much.

Whoa. Breathe deep. Get a grip, Kinney. Control yourself. Control…

"Hey." I say quietly. "Want something to drink?"

"Hey, yourself. No, I'm ok, thanks."

I nod, and grab a bottled water for myself. Next time I say I want to be sober to hear something that might define the rest of my life… give me a fucking drink.

We both head over to the living room, and I decide I really need to be sitting down to hear this. He decides he has to sit down to say it, apparently, because he plops down next to me, but turns to face me. We both take deep breaths, and I'd really be tempted to say something to break this tension, a bad sex joke, anything, but I refrain.

"Before I say anything else, Brian… I want to say thank you. Thank you for saying what you felt, what you really felt… and what you really wanted. It meant more to me than I can say." I really want to interrupt him and tell him he doesn't have to fucking thank me, but the look in his eyes stops me.

"I did my thinking… I think I've been doing it for the past two years." he says with a sad half-smile. "I missed you so fucking much, I… I don't think I can actually say how much, so I won't try. And I faced some hard truths, Brian, about myself, about you… about us. I was so fucking… stupid, leaving… letting myself think I wanted something I didn't, not really. But I don't actually regret it, because these two years have made me value what we had… and I grew up too. I realized that a house in the suburbs and a ceremony can't measure love and it doesn't say what we mean to each other… we're not made for conventions. We never have been conventional…"

…

…

"And I know now that I can make it by myself, that I can be without you…"

My heart stops. Fuck, fuck, fuck…

"But more than anything else, I realized I don't want to be without you."

Fucking hell. I might die before this little heart-to-heart is over. See, I was right… talking is bad for your health.

Deep breath, deep breath…

"It doesn't make sense without you, Brian. Not my life, not my success, not my art. I've been sleepwalking all this time, going through the motions. I exist without you, Brian. But I can't actually _live_." he pauses. "I don't need to stay in New York, not really. I have an agent, and I have something of a reputation… I can paint anywhere, fly in for shows… I guess what I'm saying is, I want you too. All of you. The good, the bad, the ugly, the snarky, the brilliant, the bitter, the hidden romantic, the cynic and the kid. Because I love you. I love all of you."

He smiles… and it's the smile. The Sunshine smile. The one he gave me the night we met, the one he gave me after the dance at prom… the one he lost for such a long time.

I have to smile back.

And then I have to kiss him. And rim him. And fuck him.

So I do.

'_Come down to my heaven, and share this warmth with me_

_We'll bleed here together, and lick our wounds better.'_

TBC

Author's note: chapter title from a Dylan Thomas poem. Songs quoted are, in order: Slow Song by Hell is for Heroes, another Dylan Thomas poem, Hallelujah written by Leonard Cohen and sung by Jeff Buckley, Signal Fire by Snow Patrol, Bend your Arms to Look Like Wings by Funeral for a Friend, and Slow Song again.

Bit of a heavy chapter, both boys did a lot of talking… let me know what you think, and thank you so much for your feedback, it makes my day


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and all of its characters are property of CowLip, I'm only borrowing them

**The Divine Accident of Life**

**Chapter 7 - ****The customary shreds and odd ends**

**Ted**

"Ok, so… Will Turner or Jack Sparrow?" Emmett asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

Michael and I take a moment to ponder our answers, but I'm pulled from my mental pro and con list by the sound of Blake snorting beside me, and I see Ben smiling at us indulgently as if we're all small children and he's the dad. I'm sure we do seem childish, we are grown men discussing which fictional character we'd rather fuck, after all… but even if we love them and couldn't live without them… they don't understand just how comforting this is. This everyday, silly thing… it's reassuring.

"Well… Jack has that bad boy allure going on…" starts Michael.

"And the man looks FINE wearing eyeliner," adds Emmet.

"But there's something about Will in the last film… becoming this tough pirate…" Michael continues.

"Not to mention how yummy he looks with that red bandana and showing off his chest," nods Emmet.

"I can't help but feel that fucking Jack wouldn't be too sanitary, though…" I add my two cents. And promptly get an eye roll from Michael and a little shove from Emmet.

"Teddy! We're not ranking their cleanliness level!"

"Well, I'm just saying…"

We seem to be stuck. Shall we call it a tie? Just as I'm about to, the missing input comes in.

Holy shit! And he's not alone…

"SUNSHINE!" Deb's bellow makes us all cringe, both because our eardrums may be permanently damaged, and in sympathy for the bone crush Justin seems to be receiving.

"Hey, Deb…" he wheezes out.

"Now, now, Deb, you don't want to kill the poor boy," says Brian, extricating Justin from the hug. "I may want to fuck him soon, and corpses aren't all that fun, I hear…"

Promptly and ever predictably, Debbie smacks the back of his head and mutters "Asshole", but it doesn't have too much bite. In fact, she's looking at Brian through proud, misty eyes.

They walk over to our booth, and Brian makes room for himself next to Emmett, but before we can scoot over to make Justin some, he pulls him down onto his lap.

"So what are you doing here, sweetie?" asks Emmett

"Oh, you know… I had some business to take care of," Justin answers, shrugging. But his shit-eating grin and quick glance at Brian makes us all understand exactly what business.

They kiss and it's as if the rest of the world disappears for them. I was quite jealous of them for a while… for the love they shared, even if it took Brian a while to admit that's what it was. In fact, I was very jealous of Brian himself. He was so fucking… perfect. I couldn't say we were real friends until after he hired me. He'd helped me out before, of course… but it wasn't until he gave me a chance, when nobody else would, that I started really seeing past his game face. And when the cancer happened… shit, that's when I saw that Brian Kinney was human after all. It sucks that such a horrible thing had to happen to bring us closer, but I am glad it did. Because now I'm not jealous of Brian. I'm merely very glad and very honored to have him as a friend, and as a boss.

"Briaaaan!" Michael's whine makes the couple stop swallowing each other.

"What Mikey?"

"We're eating here!"

"And nobody is forcing you to watch…" Brian grins, pecks Justin on the lips and turns to yell "Deb! Coffee!"

Yes, this was precisely what was missing. Not a lonely, despondent Brian… but a snarky, underneath-it-all happy Brian. And Justin. (And for all practical purposes, BrianandJustin if they're within 30 feet of each other.)

'_All these people drinking lover's spit'_

Brian turns back to see us all staring at them as if we've never seen them before. He rolls his eyes.

"So what were you ladies talking about before you decided to stare at us like we're an alien life-form?"

"We were discussing who we'd rather fuck, Will Turner or Jack Sparrow," supplies Emmett.

Justin launches on an argument with Michael over the question, and I see everyone is totally focused on him, wondering exactly what the deal is between him and Brian. I choose to focus my attention on my boss, however, and I'm struck with the… openness of him. He's looking at Justin with this tenderness I've only ever seen directed at Gus, and I suddenly feel incredibly happy for him. He hasn't been doing well, these past two years. Of course, he's been just great on the surface: doing fantastic at work, still tricking, still drinking… but with something missing, always. Sometimes, when we were at Woody's or Babylon, I'd catch him staring off into space, and the haunted and pained look in his eyes always made me ache for him. Most people, and I include myself there, forget that for all his posturing and apparent indifference, Brian Kinney _does_ feel. In fact, I'd say that he feels much more deeply than many. You just have to know where to look. And right now, I'm looking at his face, his eyes… his entire body. He seems relaxed in a way I haven't seen him in a very long time, he seems to be, at long last, content.

He notices me looking at him, and raises his eyebrows. I merely give him a small smile, and in understanding he smiles back.

'_To glimpse a piece of a soul in a soft smile'_

I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but I sure am glad to see Justin back. Back where he belongs. It was hard seeing Brian so… soulless. I hope he stays this time.

"Jack's swagger is totally hot!"

"But he's so drunk all the time, I doubt he could get it up…"

"Oh, trust me, Mikey… drunkenness isn't too much of a problem if you're any good."

Brian rolls his eyes and leans forward, apparently deciding it's time to settle the argument.

"It's as easy as having a threesome, boys…" he drawls, and everyone turns to look at him. "From the way Will eye-fucks Jack, I'd say he's a big, nelly bottom, and considering the amount of women Jack seems to have spurned, he's probably a very able top. Sooo… just have a threesome," he finishes.

Emmett, Michael and Justin nod in concurrence and start talking about the possible aphrodisiac qualities of rum, while I mentally congratulate myself. After all, I had the right idea in thinking it was a draw… and don't tell anyone, but sometimes… I really do like to be like Brian Kinney. Just a bit.

o

**Brian**

"Mr. Kinney? Jennifer Taylor is here," Anna, my new assistant, tells me over the intercom. It was tough finding a replacement for Cynthia, but she really deserved to become an Account Executive… and anyway, it only took like five people until I found a somewhat decent assistant. Somewhat.

"Send her in."

I stand up to greet Jennifer, who looks poised and elegant as usual.

"Brian, how are you?" she asks, as she gives me a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. (Sometimes I'm still a bit caught off guard by her affection for me. But I am glad I have it.)

"I'm good, thanks," I gesture for her to take a seat. "So, I'm guessing you come on business?"

"I do, indeed. You'll be glad to know the owners accepted your bid and the place is all yours whenever you sign the papers," she tells me.

"Great. But… " I pause. "I want to wait until next weekend to sign the papers."

"But Justin's coming back next weekend, isn't he? Won't you be a bit… busy?" she asks tactfully.

I simply raise an eyebrow. It doesn't take long before a look of comprehension dawns on her face.

"You mean…"

"I don't want the place to be all mine."

She smiles at me, looking at me… well, as if she's proud of me.

I smile back, but before a mushy scene can start, I ask "So, how about coming to lunch with me?"

"I'd be happy to."

I decide I'll take Jennifer to her favorite restaurant. (And yes, I do know which one it is. Don't even think about saying something.)

o

The door slides open and before I can say 'Hello', a determined blond is attacking my lips.

Not that I'm complaining, of course.

"Missed you" he gets out, in between getting my shirt off and pulling down my jeans.

I did, too. I had a momentary flash of panic when I dropped him off at the airport two weeks ago. I almost got out of the car to run after him… but then his words came back to me:_ 'I want you too. All of you… Because I love you.'_ It's a bit ironic… how reassuring those words are to me. I guess it's because I know he means them. So I stayed in the car, and smiled thinking this time he was coming back. To me. For good.

Back to the present, I drag him to the bed so I can greet him properly. We're acting like overeager teenagers, grasping at each other with near desperation. I finally manage to step out of my jeans and to take off his cargo pants, and we both moan when our cocks make contact. I walk backwards to the bed and he falls on top of me. He straddles my thighs, looking so fucking beautiful on top of me… and he's kissing my lips, my neck, my chest…

"Justin…" I whisper. I'm running my hands across his back, his ass… slipping in a finger, then two… "Ride me."

He quickly grabs a condom and lube from the nightstand, and the sight of him preparing himself is almost more than I can take. He rolls the condom onto my dick and finally, he lowers himself and it's the heat and the tightness and the most fucking amazing thing… like it always is. I know I'm not gonna last too long, but it doesn't really matter. I have a whole day to welcome him home.

I lift my hips, start meeting his movements, and in no time at all he's tightening around me and I'm gripping his hips so hard he's probably bruising and he's coming and, I swear to fucking god, I'm almost seeing white because I'm coming so hard. He falls exhausted on top of me, my dick softening inside him, and it's fucking perfect. After a little while he moves off me, and I knot and toss the condom while he's getting a towel to clean us off. I lay sideways, looking at him… just looking at him. He turns to me, smiles softly.

"Hi," he says quietly.

"Hi," I reply.

And with just that, my doubts and worries ebb away. I know it won't be easy, and I'm sure I'll fuck up royally from time to time, but… I have my whole life to get this right. And for him, I will. The apprehension and fear that dogged my every step for so long seems to fade away, and all that's left is Justin and me, lying side by side on a bed.

I feel… free.

'_I'll rise from all my sorrow  
Let the sun shine on my face'_

**Justin**

I wake up feeling warm and well-fucked. It's really the best way to wake up. I close my eyes and savor the feeling of Brian's arm across my waist, his hard body behind me. Hmm… talking about hard… I decide it's time I wake him up in his favorite way.

From the moans, I'm thinking he's glad I did.

A blowjob, a shower (with a rim job and a nice, wet fuck included, of course) and a cup of coffee later, we're mostly ready to go. I have no idea where, 'cause Brian isn't saying, but he seems strangely nervous so I'm not pressing.

We finally get out of the loft and I'm ready for anything except for the lift to stop in the floor below.

"Uh, Brian? Did you press the wrong button? Have my blowjobs finally succeeded in scrambling your mind, or is age catching up with you?"

He rolls his eyes and swipes me in the butt.

"I did not press the wrong button, Sunshine, we're getting off here," he ushers me out, "and you'll pay for that 'old' comment later," he threatens.

Oh, yum… punishment! "Promises, promises," I tell him grinning, and from the glint in his eye I can tell he's barely avoiding 'punishing' me right here.

"So, why are we here?"

He simply turns to the door in front of us, and knocks. It opens and inside is… my mother?! What the fuck?

"Hi, sweetheart! Hi, Brian, how are you?"

"Great, Jennifer, thanks for asking."

"Mom… what are you doing here?" I interrupt their little greeting.

"She's here acting in a professional capacity," Brian answers. "So, are the papers drawn up and ready?" he turns to ask my mother.

"Yes, all you have to do is sign."

Ok, wait a minute… Brian is buying this place? Why didn't I know about this?

"Hold on! You're buying this?"

"Actually… we are," Brian says, rolling his lips into his mouth.

"What?!" … the fuck?

Brian walks to stand in front of me, and I really hope he has a good explanation.

"Justin… if we're going to do this, be together… we need something that's ours, something where we can both be comfortable. You need a space to paint, I need a space to work… and Gus needs a room. So, when I heard this place was up for sale, I thought it would be perfect… it'll take some work, but we can connect to upstairs and we'll have more than enough space," he says, looking almost… apprehensive. Oh, Brian…

It's time like these when I'm just fucking… awed. This is love. It's not the roses and the words, it's worrying about where I can paint and about giving us enough space to cool down when we argue and making sure I have a place to call my own, and not someone else's.

"It's perfect," I say. And it really is… only, "But why are we buying this? I don't have all that much money right now, Brian, and I won't let you pay for me! We're supposed to be equal partners and…"

"Hold the queen out!" he interrupts. "I know you don't have the money right now, Justin, but we can draw up an installment plan like the one we did for PIFA. But for the moment, I _do_ want you to sign your name on the deed."

I nod, satisfied, and turn to my mom to sign. She's looking at us with this smile on her face, and I can't help but think that she feels really proud of us. Hell, I am, too.

o

Finally, after four fucking months, the loft is ready. It actually looks fantastic, and it really does feel more ours. The top floor is basically the same, but we moved the dining table downstairs (it's not like we eat at the table all that much…) and we added a more people-friendly living room. I have a small studio and Brian has an office, and of course, Gus has a room. He helped decorate it, and it's colorful and crazy, and much to Brian's chagrin, one of the walls is a somewhat violent shade of green. He sighed dramatically and declared, 'This is proof he lives with lesbians… he has to spend more time with me, before his taste is completely ruined!'

Honestly, I really doubt Gus will grow up with bad taste. The kid has more designer clothes than most people (except Brian, obviously). It's fantastic watching Brian and Gus together… Gus totally adores his dad, and Brian, at long last, realized he really is a good father. Whenever I think the world is total crap, I just look at them together… and it brings my hope back.

"Why so happy, Sunshine?" Brian's voice brings me out of my reverie.

"I don't know… I just am," I answer, and Brian smiles in understanding.

It's the truth, really. We are just… happy. Don't get me wrong, there are fights and queen outs and times when we'd like to murder each other, but that's ok. 'Cause this time around, we're working on the talking and making up, instead of the walking out and usual forms of pain management. It's tough, and it's a lot of work, but we're willing to do it and we have a long time to get better at it. (Plus, the make up sex is fucking amazing, as Brian loves to point out.)

No, we're not perfect. In fact, we're both very fucked up. But, we're fucked up together, and that makes all the difference. We're together. Really together. Talking with our lawyer about a domestic partnership, or the closest thing we can get here…

Talking, laughing, fighting, fucking…

Brian comes to stand behind me, and his arms wrap around me. We stand silently, surveying our home. I tip back my head and kiss his neck. He smiles down at me, and kisses me for a long time.

"I love you, Justin." he says quietly.

My breath catches in my throat. I'm sure I'm smiling like the Cheshire cat. He kisses me again, and no more words are spoken.

It won't ever cease to amaze me, this love. All we've been through… it's hard to believe.

When you're small, you think that love is like a Disney movie. When you're a teenager, you think it's like a Hollywood formula. I'm sure many people never really grow out of that. But, what I found out is… it's not true we all find love. It's not true we have a Prince Charming waiting to sweep us off our feet. And love is no fucking picnic. It hurts, and it's hard work, and it can slip right out of your hands.

Still… if you're lucky, and stubborn, and just a bit daring, you might just find something that changes your world, that challenges you and makes you be the best you can be, and makes your heart beat and makes you laugh and cry and feel. If you're really lucky, you'll find something that makes everything else worthwhile. Something that takes your breath away, something so consuming it seems almost silly to call it by a word.

You'll find true love.

"_Love is like a wind stirring the grass beneath trees on a black night. You must not try to make love definite. It is the divine accident of life."_

_- Sheerwood Anderson_

The End.

Author's note: Chapter title from a poem by Jorge Luis Borges, songs quoted are, in order: Lover's Spit by Broken Social Scene, a line from a poem I wrote and Quicksand by Natalie Walker.

I loved writing this story, and I hope you had a good time reading it as well. Let me know:)

Hugs,

Arlad.


End file.
